


undo this storm

by am3_26



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Implied Lee Felix/Seo Changbin, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-01-16 15:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/am3_26/pseuds/am3_26
Summary: “Ominous,” muttered Changbin. Jisung winked.“We’re going tomorrow, then,” said Chan. He hesitated and then looked at his reflection in the glass kitchen table. The reflection gave him the thumbs up. Chan winced and reached for his phone, taking it from Jisung. “I’ll look up the flight schedules.”—3RACHA has been around for a few years now, slowly getting recognition because of its professional and quick approach to any problems involving the supernatural. When they got a new contract it didn't seem too unusual—until they got to a core of it and Han Jisung realized that he became more involved with it than he had ever been.





	1. and if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones

**Author's Note:**

> hello!  
> just wanted to mention that english is not my native language so if you find any mistakes feel free to let me know!
> 
> work title's taken from: of monsters and men — thousand eyes

Chan wasn’t having a great day.

Actually, scratch that. The morning has been _fine_ —he woke up refreshed and ready to start a new day, maybe even finally finish the paperwork regarding their last job, which he has been procrastinating on for the last two days. Feeling energised, he even smiled at his reflection in the mirror, for fuck’s sake. The reflection didn’t smile back, but it was nothing new.

Chan brushed his teeth, not daring to look in the mirror again, and headed to the kitchen, already thinking about various ways he could spend his third of the payment, now that their contract was over. Maybe he could finally take Woojin out for a friendly dinner. He hasn’t seen the older in a long time, after all.

It was when he was sitting at the table, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram and waiting for the kettle to boil, that he saw a new notification. Chan frowned. New emails at any time weren’t unusual, that’s how the majority of clients contacted them, after all, but this one didn’t come to the business email address—it came to his personal one. However, the title ‘To 3RACHA agency’ left no doubt to whether it was a personal matter or a new contract.

 _Here goes my weekend_ , thought Chan with regret, opening the email while absent-mindedly turning off the kettle. Holding the phone in his left hand, he began searching the cabinets for something drinkable like tea or coffee, which was pretty hard considering how all shelves were stacked with various bottles and cans with labels like ' _Helliflower’s curse antidote_ ' and ‘ _Don’t remember what this is but it has sparkles in it_ ’ in Changbin's handwriting.

Just as he started reading the letter, a loud shout came from Jisung’s room. Chan wouldn’t even pay attention to that—Jisung had a habit of randomly screaming and overall had a pretty loud personality—but the following sound of something breaking had him looking out of the kitchen isle in the direction of youngers’ rooms. After a beat of silence the door of Jisung’s bedroom opened and victorious-looking, practically beaming owner stepped out, cheerfully announcing, “The blood has been shed, but fear no more: we have seen the last of him”.

Look, in any other situation Chan would immediately make sure he had his amulets and talismans on him and then at least go investigate who—in most cases _what_ —exactly was dead. However, just yesterday he himself checked all the protection marks around their apartment and found them untouched, so the only thing he did was ask, “Did you find a spider in your room again?”

The ensuing silence was enough of an answer. Jisung’s triumphant expression faltered, then he said as quietly as possible, “I may or may not have also broken a lamp in the process, but sacrifices had to be made,” before backing away and closing the door again.

If after all the things he had seen he still for some reason remained Christian, Chan would ask God for patience. Now, not knowing anymore what god exactly he should pray to, he just smothered another sigh and went back to reading an email.

He read it until the end.

And then again.

On his third read-through he realised that the words in the letter weren’t going to change themselves anytime soon and after a moment of hesitation tentatively asked, “Changbin?”

Changbin, who Chan couldn’t see at the moment, absently hummed something affirmative.

“Do you know a person who goes by a name Hyunjin?”

After a small pause Changbin cautiously replied, “Yeah, why?”

“Did you share with them my personal email address?”

“Oh, shit, did he really use it?” came a rushed reply and dishevelled-looking Changbin finally appeared from the bathroom, looking apologetic—as much as you can look apologetic with a shaving cream all over your face. “I told him it was for emergencies only, I promise! It’s just at that time we were still dealing with that witch's curse and had literally no time for new contracts or even ourselves and— and if he was in need his letter could have become lost, and—”

“It’s okay,” interrupted Chan rather impatiently. “But can you please explain who he is?”

“Oh,” Changbin stopped rambling and sighed. “In short: he is a friend of Felix. He— might have overheard us talking about my job once. Don’t worry,” he rushed to add, noticing a look Chan was giving him, “he was super chill about it. Like, he said he always knew that supernatural beings were real and I guess his grandma was kind of a shaman or something like that. I gave him our agency contacts just in case but warned that it might take time before we get to his enquiry if needed. But then Felix started doing his doe eyes at me saying that then I should give my personal contacts as well seeing that Hyunjin is our friend, and you know that I tend to panic when he is like that, so—yeah,” Changbin finally took a breath and then added as an afterthought, “Giving not only mine but yours too is totally on me, though.”

Chan let himself process the information and after contemplating something asked, “But Hyunjin lives in Seoul, right?”

“He does," drawled Changbin, “or, at least, he definitely lived here three—no, four months ago.”

“Four months?” Chan raised his eyebrows. “That’s a long time. Maybe he moved?”

“He hasn’t said anything about moving, though? I’ve never gotten to visit him, but me and Felix were invited to his birthday in March—so, four months ago. Felix went alone though, I had a job”, added he with a regretful tone.

“Oh yeah, I remember you being insufferable about it,” came Jisung’s voice from his bedroom.

“Shut it, brat,” fired Changbin back, annoyed. “Not more insufferable than you when you had to exorcise somebody instead of a movie night with—what was her name? Jiyoung?”

"The audacity—"

Chan raised his voice, saying, “So why is he asking us to go to Jeju island to a village that isn’t even on the map?”

Changbin, who was in the middle of shouting a very detailed description of a place where Jisung could shove his opinion into, promptly shut up.

“What?” came Jisung’s voice from behind the door.

Instead of answering, Chan just handed Changbin his phone. The younger, who was still clenching the razor in his hand, placed it on a kitchen table and took the phone, seemingly not caring about the shaving cream dripping down his face. Half-way through the letter his expression soured and he said, “Well, here goes my weekend.”

Chan silently agreed.

“I don’t appreciate you guys discussing important things when I’m not there!” shouted Jisung through the door. “At least speak louder!”

Changbin ignored him in favor of continuing reading, and Chan, taking pity on the younger, approached the room and after a symbolic knock poked his head in, saying “We’ve got a new contract.”

Jisung, who was jumping around his room putting a sock on—Chan noticed with amusement that it had a hole in it—abruptly stopped and with the utmost seriousness asked, “Did they pay in advance? I need a new lamp.”

Chan closed the door.

“Hyung,” called then Changbin from the kitchen, “are you sure he didn’t send a follow-up?”

“No, that’s it,” answered Chan, “which is really odd. It's almost like—”

“He deliberately wrote it as vague as possible,” finished Changbin and frowned. “That’s bullshit though. You can’t just write ‘I know a person and his friend is dead. Please come.’ and expect us to drop everything and go.”

Jisung, who finally came out of his room, stopped in his tracks and asked, puzzled, “Did he really write that?”

Changbin silently passed him the phone.

“‘Hello, Christopher Bang-ssi’,” read aloud Jisung. “‘I am sorry for writing to your personal email, but I was advised to do so by Seo Changbin-ssi in case of emergency. It is in my beliefs that the situation that happened is indeed an emergency.’ Oh my god, who writes like that anymore?” muttered Jisung, stopping for a second to take a breath and then continued. “A week ago I was contacted by my friend saying that his old childhood friend was dead. However, he didn’t mention anything unusual until three days ago when he called me again and said that he visited his hometown and felt that the death of his friend could be more suspicious than it seems and he believes that it involved something supernatural. He didn’t want to talk much about it but I got the memo that he was planning on investigating it himself. I immediately remembered about your agency and this is the reason I am reaching to you. I am afraid that my friend could potentially harm himself during his ‘investigation’—even if nothing supernatural is involved. I would be eternally grateful if you could visit the village and of course pay for your efforts. I will attach the village coordinates below. Thank you in advance, Hwang Hyunjin.’”

Jisung stared at the screen for several seconds before saying, “This dude has a superability to talk a lot about nothing. All I got that some guy is dead and his friend suspects the supernatural,” Jisung blinked a few times and concluded, “Seems like a stretch.”

Chan sighed. “I know. But we had even more vague letters in the past and some of them indeed involved paranormal.”

“And some of them were just people being crazy or superstitious,” replied Changbin, unimpressed.

“Do we have any better to do?” asked Chan him.

“Don’t know about you, but I had a date planned,” grumbled Changbin. “Also this is the first weekend in—”

“I’m in,” suddenly said Jisung. “Chan’s right—just because the letter is vague doesn’t mean we shouldn't check it. The fact that that guy is suspecting supernatural is a reason enough. Not every person immediately blames ghosts on a death.”

“We don’t know if it’s a ghost,” answered Changbin with a sigh, defeated. “But sure, let’s go. I can finally tan at least, I guess. When are we going?” asked he Chan.

“Tomorrow,” answered Jisung instead of the leader. “I have some things today that I have to take care if.”

“Ominous,” muttered Changbin. Jisung winked.

“We’re going tomorrow, then,” said Chan. He hesitated and then looked at his reflection in the glass kitchen table. The reflection gave him the thumbs up. Chan winced and reached for his phone, taking it from Jisung. “I’ll look up the flight schedules.”

“I’ll ask Felix for Hyunjin’s number and ask if he really wrote everything he knows,” said Changbin and left the room.

  


* * *

   


He was cold.

He was cold and lonely and really, _really_ scared. The fear was like a constant—no matter how much time passed, the terror did not pass with it. He didn’t know himself, but he knew the sticky, suffocating feeling that filled his insides with the urge to do something— _to be_ something.

So he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title's taken from: daughter — youth


	2. i've trained myself to give up on the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> english is not my native language so if you find any mistakes feel free to let me know!

“So the weather forecast lied,” said Changbin, looking out of the window, “and now I have to suffer for who knows how long in a crowded bus with no AC, and for who? For some guy I don’t even know.”

“His friend is dead, hyung,” reproachfully said Jisung.

“Sounds like his problem,” replied Changbin, crossing his arms.

Chan, who was sitting in front of them near some old lady, turned his head and silently stared at the younger, making his disapproval clear.

“On the other hand,” backpedaled Changbin, “it is indeed a tragedy and I will do my best to help him in his investigation.”

“That’s the spirit,” smiled Chan, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ll be there soon, by the way.”

“In the village?” perked Jisung up.

“No, at the bus station. We’ll have to hitchhike to the village, there’s no buses or trains going past the station.” Chan was silent for a few seconds. “From what I was able to research, the village has less than two hundred residents. I hope that at least somebody has a car and happens to pass us on a way home.”

“Amazing,” said Changbin with a toneless voice.

“Didn’t you want to tan?” asked Jisung innocently and immediately started laughing when Changbin tried to strangle him. Chan shook his head and looked out of the window. The weather indeed was not what they were expecting—instead of a mild rain promised in the forecast they got sun so bright it actually hurt the eyes. Chan, who was wearing a black shirt, has already started to sweat—and he wasn’t even directly under the sun yet.

When the bus arrived at the station Chan was the first one to get off and the first one to look around. The town, even though very small, was surprisingly clean; old one-story buildings were forming a straight line—Chan got the impression that the town consisted of a single street. People around them didn’t pay them any attention, which was a good sign.

“People here are chill,” noticed Changbin as well, getting off the bus, “so the death was a single thing. For now.”

“Or the guy is wrong and it was of natural causes,” added Jisung, hopping off.

Chan ignored them in favor of looking at the map on his phone, trying to understand in which direction they had to go. Jisung looked over the older’s shoulder and said, “We have to go right. You see? According to the map, that convenience store,” he pointed his finger at a run-down building, “is on the same road as the village. We just have to go straight.”

“Thanks,” sighed Chan and locked his phone.

 

 

After crossing the town’s border Chan’s phone immediately started displaying the “No Signal” message, becoming completely useless. After making sure that the same was going on with the others’ phones, Chan reluctantly continued walking straight—now without any idea where exactly he was going.

“I told you that we should’ve taken that free map at the airport,” muttered Changbin.

Jisung looked at him. “The village wasn’t on the map, though? It was just a bunch of coordinates, wasn’t it?” said he, raising his eyebrow.

“Doesn’t matter,” stubbornly said Changbin. “I’m sweaty and tired and kinda hate the guy for making us go to the countryside.” Jisung just continued staring at him, unimpressed.

“Let him be,” said Chan, distracted. They were yet to be passed by any cars, but he still tried his best to look out for any sign of a movement. “He canceled his date with Felix for this.”

Jisung nodded with understanding and sympathetically gave Changbin a pat on the shoulder. “Poor boy. Good thing I’m single.”

Changbin started to say something but abruptly stopped, turning his head and looking back. “I think I heard a car,” said he with hope.

“Oh thank god,” muttered Chan. Jisung immediately stopped walking and stuck his thumb out even before checking if Changbin was right. Soon they all could not only hear but see it—they were being steadily approached by a rusty old car, which was coming from the direction of the town. At first glance it seemed that the car was painted brown but the closer it got the more it became clear that the brown color was nothing but dirt and rust. The car slowed down and pulled up alongside them, and the driver—a tired-looking lady in her thirties—rolled down the window, saying, “Do you need a ride?”

“Yes, _please_ ,” immediately answered Changbin.

The woman chuckled. “Get in, then.”

Chan and Jisung shared a look while Changbin happily walked around and climbed into the passenger seat. After a moment of hesitation, the two of them got inside as well, occupying the dirty backseat. Jisung hasn’t even closed the door yet when the car took off, stirring up a cloud of dust. The driver adjusted her rear-view mirror and asked, looking at Chan, “Where do you need to go?” When the eldest answered, she hummed softly and fell silent, continuing driving straight. Realizing that the conversation has died Jisung rushed to ask, “Are you from the village?”

“Yes,” came a curt reply.

“Oh really?” perked Changbin up. “Can you tell us about it?”

The woman raised her eyebrows, keeping her eyes on the road. “Tell you about it? What’s there to tell?”

“You know...” trailed Changbin off. “Recent events, the news…”

The driver looked at him briefly. “The news?” Her voice sounded like she was holding back laughter. “Well, this week has been pretty eventful. Yongjin finally fixed his roof so now the whole village doesn’t have to listen to his arguments with his wife. Incheng’s chicken started to lay eggs again—I think the guy cried of happiness when he found out. Oh, and not to forget about the apple tree that fell down on poor Jinyon’s dog, may she rest in peace.”

“So no deaths?” asked Changbin, disappointed.

Jisung kicked his seat.

The woman turned her head and stared at Changbin for a few seconds. “What do you know,” slowly asked she, not really phrasing it as a question. Her expression was guarded but Chan noticed that she started tapping her right index finger against the steering wheel.

Jisung decided to take the wheel before Changbin could unintentionally worsen the situation even more. “We are not from here, you see. It’s just we have a—,” he stopped for a moment, “—friend who’s from this village. We haven’t seen him for a while but he is a close friend of ours.” Chan raised his eyebrow. Jisung pointedly didn’t look at him, continuing, “As I said, we haven’t seen him for a while, but just recently he called us saying that he’ll have to stay in his hometown because of his childhood friend’s death. We don’t know all the details but felt appropriate to come here to pay our respects as well. It seemed like that man was important to the friend of ours.” Jisung paused. “We haven’t told him, though, because he tends to refuse the support of others during difficult times.”

The woman incredulously asked, “So you guys are friends of Jeongin? Would've never guessed.”

“...Yes,” said Chan, praying that they weren’t making a big mistake. He could see Changbin mouthing “ _Jeongin_ ” several times to better remember the name of their supposed friend.

The driver relaxed again. “Oh, that makes sense then,” said she more to herself. She then addressed Jisung, seemingly mistaking him for a leader of the group, “Maybe at least you could talk some sense into him. The boy’s going crazy.”

Jisung tried his best to appear baffled. “How so?”

“I heard that he was trying to convince Daehyun the other day that Shiwoo’s death wasn’t accidental,” the driver was talking with a fond exasperation, which Jisung found an interesting mix. “Honestly, I get it. We are all grieving. Shiwoo was a really good boy. But that doesn’t mean that somebody drowned him.”

Changbin, who was listening attentively, raised his eyebrows. “Drowned?”

“Yes,” the woman sighed. “He went swimming at night, which isn’t unusual. All teenagers are the same, after all. The waves were high. He was a little tipsy. Accidents happen.” She sounded a little sad but otherwise appeared calm and collected.

Jisung nodded even though both Chan and Changbin seemed surprised by the lack of emotions. It is true that Jisung didn’t spend his childhood in a small town or a village, but he used to often visit his grandparents who lived in the countryside, and he remembered the way people lived there, so different from a way he was raised with. People from small towns didn’t dwell on the past—heartbreaks and deaths were inevitable and unstoppable, therefore not dreaded. Jisung was sure that the woman deeply regretted the death of a boy, but what use would be of her sorrow?

“So… I guess Jeongin still can’t accept Shiwoo’s death?” asked Jisung after a moment of silence.

The driver sighed again. “The boy’s been restless since he got back. Spent days and nights on the shore, kept searching for Shiwoo’s body—”

“The body was never found?” Changbin interrupted again, seemingly not caring about the manners anymore.

The woman looked annoyed when she answered, “Well, we tried to search for it, but couldn’t find any signs. It probably got caught in an abandoned fishing net or something like that. We told Jeongin that it should rise to the surface in a week or so but the boy didn’t believe us.”

The car started to slow down and Jisung looked out of the window, distracted. The road they were driving on was currently going uphill. Tall trees on both sides of the road were providing a good enough shadow that Jisung hasn’t heard Changbin’s whining about the sun since they drove deeper into the forest. Suddenly the car turned left and now all of them could see a cluster of houses situated on a slope of the hill. The village they were steadily approaching was nothing like Jisung was expecting. He was imagining a dozen dilapidated buildings with a strong smell of fish; what he got was about twenty decent-looking brick and wooden houses. Houses were built in an uneven line stretching from a top of the hill to the rocky shore; some of the houses looked well-lived in while some houses were hauntingly new and untouched, like whoever built them changed their mind and never moved in. The driver, whose name neither of them cared enough to ask, turned her head and said, “We’re here, boys.”

 _She hasn’t mentioned anything supernatural even once_ , thought Jisung and frowned. He locked his eyes with Chan, who was already looking at him with something akin to confusion in his eyes. _So why does every house have some kind of protection marks on them?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title's taken from: bleachers — i wanna get better


	3. let me know where you go (watch me now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hit the writer's block and had several "am i a writer or just a masochist" moments while writing this. enjoy.

“The trip’s over, boys,” announced the woman, stopping the car in front of a little house. Jisung was the first one to climb out, squinting his eyes at the blinding sun. While stretching his back to loosen the muscles he tried to subtly examine the runes drawn on the walls and the doorstep of the house. The blood-red ink in which they were drawn wasn’t uncommon—Chan once explained to Jisung that amulets and talismans written in red represented blood and fire, thus symbolizing life and human emotions—but them to be written on the walls? Jisung was kinda familiar with the runes that Chan drew around their apartment for protection, but those were invisible even to people with something unusual in their blood, be that magic, curse or blessing. The runes on the house, however, were perfectly seen—at least to him and Chan. As for Changbin...

As if following his train of thought, Chan looked at Changbin the moment Jisung did the same. The boy was in the middle of climbing out of the front seat, but they both saw him looking at the house and turning away, clearly not noticing anything unusual.

Huh.

Changbin, unaware of their unspoken dialogue, bowed to the woman. “Thank you so much, um—”

“Misun,” answered she, amused. “And it’s nothing.”

“Do you know by any chance where we can find Jung—I mean Jeongin?” Jisung chimed in, immediately distracted from the runes. “I’m not sure where he can be right now…”

“Oh,” Misun chewed her bottom lip and then pointed at the house on top of the hill. “I guess you can look for him there.”

“I thought everybody here knows each other,” muttered Jisung.

Misun, who clearly heard him, smiled. “It’s true. It’s just…” she trailed off and then sighed. “His grandmother lives there. It’s a start, I guess. But I’m not sure he will be there—as I said, he’s been restless. We’re all kinda worried, to be honest.”

“Thank you,” Chan politely bowed. Jisung and Changbin rushed to do the same. “Would you like us to pay for the gas or—”

“Oh!” Misun looked pleasantly surprised. “No, no, it’s okay. Thanks for the offer, though!” The woman smiled again, more openly this time. “You’re always welcome to stop by after you pay your respects, by the way. It’s not often I get to talk to the younger ones. My husband will be pleased as well, I think.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Chan bowed again. Jisung, sensing that the conversation was almost over, opened his mouth to ask a question that has been bothering him since he saw the runes, but Chan, still smiling, stepped on his foot, promptly shutting him up. “Thank you again and have a good day.”

The door after Misun hadn’t closed yet when Jisung turned to Chan, hissing, “Why didn’t you ask her?”

Changbin furrowed his eyebrows. “Ask about what?”

“The runes,” said Jisung.

“There are protection marks on all the houses here,” added Chan. “Bright red, kinda strange looking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this style, though it doesn’t say anything. Just means that I don’t know the master.”

Changbin didn’t say anything, just kept looking at the house in front of them with a thoughtful expression. Jisung knew that he couldn’t see anything—like, probably, all the residents of the village. Changbin was the only one in their group who didn’t have any unusual ancestors—his family was kinda strange and certainly not average, but still, no magic. To be honest, Jisung couldn’t say he was that magical himself. To believe his mother, his great-great-grandfather was a fairy—or something close to it, at least. Jisung met him only once. He was working a late shift in a cafe near his house, maybe in his last year of high school—his memory was pretty hazy—when a customer with a bright blue hair and a lot of piercings looked at his name tag, frowned, said “Such a regular name. What a waste,” and went out without even ordering anything. When Jisung was retelling that to his mom, she just casually said, “Oh, I think that was Choa. I showed you the photos,” and continued making a potion for their latest client. And that was that.

Jisung was jealous for a long time that Choa still looked as good as he did at the end of the 19th century.

Chan’s family situation was similar. His grand-grand-someone met somebody not that ordinary, they had a kid, that kid later on had her own family—regular stuff that was quite common in their job. Having at least a drop of magic in your blood was quite useful because of some things that could be seen only under this condition. That’s why Jisung had a deep respect for Changbin—even if he didn’t show it often—who was completely, one hundred percent human. When Chan was recruiting people for the agency, he found Jisung first through his connections with Jisung’s mom, who was a pretty famous potion master. Changbin came to them later by himself, finding about the job offer on some shady website Chan posted it on. His potion skills were exceptional—Jisung, who didn’t have any talent in that area, but who spent his whole childhood around people who were specializing in it, was beyond impressed. On a question about how he learned or even got to know about it without any connections in the magic community Changbin just shrugged. “Abandoned magic books, mostly. Whisper here, a rumor there. A lot of mistakes.”

Jisung never told the other, but he actually got really insecure after learning that Changbin just “learned it from books”. Even with his mother’s help he never got the alchemy quite right, never made a potion worth using. His mom used to tell him that he just lacked patience; his anxiety kept whispering that he was not good enough. After the repetitive failures he even got to the point where he considered giving up and just going to the university and getting a normal job. Luckily, his mom suggested trying out other magic branches, for example spell casting. “Pretty primitive, but better than becoming an accountant,” was her verdict.

Jisung, who was always a pretty damn good orator, quickly found out that it was exactly what he was good at, and decided to stick to that.

With Chan’s specialization being runes, the three of them made such a good team they quickly became known for their efficiency and professionalism. 3RACHA was up and running for only a year now but had already established a certain position among other agencies dealing with supernatural and paranormal. Chan even had some sort of certificate hanging on a wall in his bedroom, which Jisung found pretty ironic seeing as the agency didn’t have any official records because they were, well, literally fighting with ghosts and demons. To the normal people they simply did not exist. Chan wasn’t bothered enough to even build a cover-up, so in the documents all three of them were proudly unemployed.

Changbin, clearly getting tired of just staring at the blank wall, turned away, annoyed. “Let’s go. You can figure your shit later. I don’t think this is that important, anyway.”

“Just because you can’t—” started Jisung, but Chan quickly interrupted him, saying “You’re right, let’s go,” with a tone of finality.

 

The road to the house on the hill was surprisingly difficult. The asphalt road ended soon, replaced by a stone one, which ended quite quickly as well, turning into a half-overgrown path. The same was happening to the houses: the ones near the shore were fairly new, maybe with one or two cars near them; however, the higher you got, the older became the houses, and less the chance to spot a car or even some sort of vehicle. Jisung noticed that some houses on the hill weren’t even connected to the power lines, which was pretty weird in his opinion. _How can people even live without electricity? What about the lights? Do they just use candles or?_

The house on top of the hill, in Jisung’s opinion, wasn’t impressive. It was quite boring, honestly, the only thing being unusual were the runes, identical to the ones they saw earlier on all the houses on the way here.

Chan hesitatingly approached the house first, knocking a few times on the wooden door, which was also covered in protection runes. They had to wait a while before it finally creaked open, revealing an old woman in a dress that at first glance appeared even older than the lady in it. She didn’t say a word, just stared silently at three of them until Chan said, uncomfortable, “Good afternoon. I understand that our visit is quite unexpected, but we came by Jeongin’s request. Are you by any chance his grandmother?”

The woman was silent for a long time before saying, “It depends.”

“What does this even _mean_ ,” whispered Jisung to Changbin. The other just shrugged, confused.

Chan blinked a few times before apparently deciding to try phrasing the question differently. “Do you know where Jeongin is right now? We need to talk to him.”

“In the woods, probably,” answered the woman with an obvious distaste.

“In the woods? I see,” Chan was seemingly confused but still tried to appear confident. Jisung wasn’t buying the act, though, so he decided to take the matter in his hands, saying, “Did he say when he was coming back?”

The woman just kept looking at him, so Jisung, quickly realizing that he wasn’t going to get an answer, added, “Or maybe you know where we can look for him?”

That got the woman talking. She snorted and said with disgust, “Of course I know. He went to him for help. Didn’t even ask me first. I was so kind to welcome him back, thinking he finally realized how stupid he was, but apparently, he is as much of an idiot as he was before.” She snorted again.

“To him?” repeated Jisung, confused.

The woman nodded, the disgusted expression not leaving her face. “The moment he thought he found something he put his tail between his legs and ran to the woods like I don’t know who is living there. The others might be young and unaware, but I am not.”

Jisung practically vibrated with excitement when he asked, “Who are you talking about?”

The woman looked at him, patronizing. “The forest witch, of course,” said she with a tone of an old person who had gone mad but is still sure of her own sanity. “Who else.”

Jisung sighed. Changbin silently rolled his eyes. Chan was the only one who stepped forward, asking with sudden interest, “How do we find him?”

The woman frowned. “You don’t. He finds you.”

“Well, thank you for your help—” started Jisung, but Chan interrupted him, bowing to the woman and saying with a lot more sincerity, “Thank you a lot. If we find your grandson we will be sure to bring him home. It doesn’t seem like a place he should hang out at.”

“You’re a good boy,” said the woman, suddenly touched. She even patted Chan’s head a few times, moved. “A good boy,” said she again before suddenly closing the door, seemingly not caring about any polite farewells.

“A good boy,” mocked Changbin. Jisung snorted. “What are you, a dog?” He shook his head. “She’s clearly crazy, hyung. What are we gonna do now?”

Chan was silent for a few seconds before answering, “No, she’s not. Do you think the runes on the houses just drew themselves?”

Jisung immediately sobered up, saying, “You think that he drew them? But why would he live in the fucking forest?”

Chan frowned. “I don’t know, Jisung.” He looked at the forest that started right after the house of Jeongin’s grandmother. “But do we have any other leads?”

“Fucking—okay, fuck, let’s play detectives, I guess,” muttered Changbin. “This whole trip is ridiculous. Why are we even here? Maybe Hyunjin just pranked us. I don’t really know him that well and Felix has some pretty strange friends.”

Jisung silently agreed. The whole thing was pretty weird from the start and it just kept getting weirder. He wasn’t buying the whole ‘forest witch’ thing, but. What the fuck Jeongin was doing in the forest, then?

Chan sighed. “I don’t like it as well. But,” he looked at the forest and sighed again. “Let’s just get it over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title's taken from: alt-j — deadcrush


	4. the waves are crashing down on you and me again, again, again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit small, but the next chapter is twice as big, so!

As soon as Jisung crossed the border between 'still the village, probably' and 'definitely just a forest now' his head started to ache, causing him to swear and stop in his tracks. “Somebody is trying to get into my head,” announced he aloud. He wasn't sure how he jumped to that conclusion, but the moment he said that it had felt—right. He felt right.

Chan let a surprised whistle, turning his head. “How powerful must they be if you felt that even through the amulet?”

Jisung guiltily averted his eyes. “The amulet. The one you gave me. Right. You know, now that I think about it… It’s… Well—”

Chan abruptly stopped and slowly turned around, looking at Jisung with an unreadable expression. “Han Jisung, did you—”

“I lost it, hyung,” admitted Jisung, not looking away from the ground. “Remember when I went swimming that one time and lost my phone and my wallet? Well, they weren’t the only things I left there.” He tried his best to ignore Chan’s obvious disappointment, muttering, “I was scared to tell you because you spent a long time making it.”

“Does this mean that you’re the only one unprotected right now?” asked Changbin pragmatically.

“It does,” answered Chan instead of Jisung, who was very interested in his shoelaces at that moment. “I still have mine and I hope you do too.”

Changbin raised his eyebrows. “Of course, hyung. I remember your lecture on how important they were in our job, and I am not taking any chances. Unlike the—” he shifted his gaze, “others.”

“Okay, in my defense—” started to say Jisung but abruptly stopped, closing his mouth so fast he accidentally bit his tongue. The moderate headache he was pretending to ignore suddenly became so unbearable that Jisung felt hot tears in the corners of his eyes. He deeply regretted that one time when he skipped the chapter about mind magic in the textbook he was studying with. At that time he just wanted to get to the “fun” part—fire magic, mostly—and thought that mind magic was boring and it’s not like he was ever going to use it.

Well. What a fucking idiot.

“The moment we come back I’m learning mind magic,” groaned Jisung, rubbing his temples. He ignored Chan’s snort and Changbin’s disbelieving “Yeah, _sure_ ” in favor of concentrating on the attack. His only knowledge about mind magic was that one quote from the beginning of the page that caught his eye before he skipped the chapter completely. 'Mind magic is, undoubtedly, one of the most promising and complicated magic branches, exactly as the brain itself is the most promising and complicated part of the body.' Seemed like a stretch to Jisung, if you asked him, but he guessed the authors knew better. Nevertheless, it was no help at all.

The feeling that somebody was trying to open his brain with a screwdriver hasn’t stopped, making him almost nauseous. Jisung, acting purely on instinct, tried his best to close his brain. Not knowing what to do, he just pictured his conscience as a—what was that the squirrels ate? oh yes, oak nut—and then started methodically build (imagine) the walls around it. Like a fort, sort of. Made of red bricks, because stone walls were just too cliche, in his opinion, and he liked the color red, and it was his mind so he could do whatever he wanted. So he built walls.

He wasn't sure if it was due to his actions or something else, but when the nausea became so strong that he almost accepted that he was going to throw up, the pain just—disappeared. Jisung counted to five, then to ten, and only then allowed himself to relax and breathe again. “He gave up,” said he, feeling for some reason completely exhausted.

“Do you need some water?” offered Chan, already opening his backpack. "Not sure what was going on with you but it seemed like _something_ was. Going on, I mean. Was it that bad?"

“Nah, I’m okay,” Jisung managed a smile. “It was kinda bad, actually, but it's over now, so whatever, I guess. It left a weird taste in my mouth, though." He rubbed his temples. "Let’s just find the fucker so I can punch him in the face. That will do.”

Changbin, who was standing in the woods, half-hidden in the shadows, slowly asked, “What are you talking about? He?”

“The witch,” Jisung started to walk forward again, determined. “I was skeptical before but now I just don’t see any other explanation.”

“Explanation to _what_ ,” muttered Changbin, picking up his pace.

The sun was high.

 

 

“I think we’re going in circles,” announced Jisung an hour later, looking at the tree with a giant hollow in its trunk with suspicion. He was pretty sure he already saw that exact tree at least twice. Maybe more.

“No shit, Sherlock,” answered Changbin with a bite. His forehead was glistening with sweat—when they thought that the forest will shield them from the sun and the heat, well, they were wrong.

Chan disapprovingly glanced at him and said, “I think we reached some sort of a protective barrier. That’s why we weren’t able to go past a certain point.” He stopped walking and looked around, thinking, then leaned on a tree nearby, sighing tiredly. “It’s not in my category, though. I think it’s some kind of a spell.”

Jisung frowned. “Huh?” He looked around, not sensing anything. “A barrier? Hyung, are you sure?”

“Yeah,” answered Chan, closing his eyes. Changbin nodded once and carefully sat down next to him, starting to dig through his backpack, probably searching for something.

"You think it's the witch?" asked Jisung hopefully. Changbin shrugged, indifferent. He was obviously on a verge of passing out from the heat, so Jisung turned to Chan, asking miserably, “Hyung? Are you not going to help?”

Chan mumbled something along the lines “I believe in you”. Changbin passed him a water bottle.

“Just try asking me for help next time you need it,” muttered Jisung and looked around again, trying to understand where to start. If he was being honest, barriers (especially the ones that messed with your brain instead of being just a magic alternative to a wall) weren’t one of his strengths. He never quite understood the concept of how they worked, too used to the spells that were more straightforward. _I really should have read that chapter on mind magic, huh._

Deciding to try to attack the barrier (even if he wasn’t an expert in mind magic, he did know how to destroy things) instead of trying to unravel it (which, okay, was way out of his league), he raised his hands to cast a spell—and then the headache suddenly came back, stronger than before. He swore under his breath and, ignoring not-so-concerned “Jisung?” from behind, tried to close his mind as he did before. _Giant walls. Made of red bricks. Come on._ However, the attack was so much stronger that he could literally tell the moment when his defenses began cracking. He cursed again when Jeongin’s name popped into his head—he knew it meant that the attacker was able to read at least that part of his memory. Even though he tried his best to fight back— _okay, not red bricks, stone walls, okay? or maybe even steel_ —more and more memories came flooding in—swirling, shining, loud—until it was almost unbearable. Jisung closed his eyes and started hyperventilating, no longer even trying to fight, his limbs going numb ( _why the hell, what is going on—_ ), his mind jumping from one memory to another so rapidly he was sure he was going to go mad—until he couldn’t take it anymore. Not even noticing that he started crying Jisung fell down on his knees and sobbed, “Stop!”

The world stopped, compliant.

Jisung breathed in, out.

In.

Out.

His mind was silent, like whoever was rifling through it somehow sensed Jisung’s pain. _Maybe he is just on the other side of the barrier, observing_ , thought Jisung, tired. He could feel Chan’s hands on himself and hear Changbin’s worried questions but had no energy to even open his eyes or somehow indicate that he was still there. He wasn’t sure he could even feel any of his body parts, let alone move them.

His mind was silent—and then the waves came crashing down.

Behind Jisung’s closed eyes there was a raging ocean now. It stretched as far as he could see. Maybe it really was everything there was.

Maybe Jisung was too scared to register what laid beyond.

He was standing in the shallows, surrounded by a ring of towering thunderstorms. _The eye of the storm_ , he thought, disoriented, scared. Breathing.

In. Out.

The waves around him came crashing down but the only thing they brought was a relief. Jisung closed his eyes—no, opened them—saw nothing—saw everything—and let the waves cover him whole. His mind wasn’t screaming anymore. The waves soothed his pain, apologetic. _I didn’t mean it._

 _It’s okay_ , thought Jisung.

“Wha—What is okay? Jisung, talk to me,” screamed Chan in his ear.

Jisung opened his eyes and immediately closed them, groaning.

“I have a potion that—” started to say Changbin, which caused Jisung to croak, “No potions. I’m okay.”

He could feel Chan’s hands tighten around him. “You scared the shit out of me, Han Jisung. What happened? Did the barrier—”

“No, it was—” started Jisung and then stopped. “Oh. The barrier.” He opened his eyes and looked around, ignoring Chan and Changbin’s worried faces. “The barrier is gone, hyung.”

“Wha—” started Changbin and then stopped. “Wait, you’re right. And there’s—who the fuck—”

Jisung stood up with Chan’s support and straightened his back, looking at the stranger who was silently standing just in front of them, observing.

_Observing._

Oh.

“You know that I promised Changbin to punch you?” shared Jisung. Ignoring Chan’s questioning glance, he continued, “I can’t do it right now, ‘cause. You know. My arms feel like jelly. Thanks for that. I don’t intend to break the promise, though.” He thought for a while and added, “Asshole.”

The stranger, who was looking at him with something akin to wariness, suddenly smiled, clearly amused. The smile didn’t linger, though. “Don’t worry. You’ll probably have plenty of time.”

“I don’t understand,” said Chan slowly. “Do you guys know each other?”

“No,” said Jisung at the same time as the stranger said, “Indirectly.”

Changbin groaned next to Jisung. “Are people in this village physically unable to give clear answers to clear questions?”

Jisung lifted his left hand, which he finally could feel, and accusingly pointed his finger at the stranger. “That’s the guy who put the barrier. And also he tried to crack my brain open. Like a can of conserves. Somehow succeeded." Words felt heavy and foreign, but Jisung tried his best, even if the sentences he was producing sounded rough. Wrong. "So no. I don’t know him at all. He probably knows about me everything, though.”

The stranger looked vaguely uncomfortable. “I—I had to know that you weren’t bringing trouble.”

“So there _is_ a witch!” Changbin sounded strangely excited. However, Jisung’s confusion immediately vanished when the older continued, “We didn’t come all the way here for nothing!”

The stranger’s expression became guarded again and he took a step back, glancing at Jisung. “I know why you came here,” said he, quietly. “Usually I don’t—” he winced and sighed. “Okay.” It seemed like he was talking to himself rather than to the others. “Okay. You can—” He trailed off again and, finally making up his mind, nodded and turned on his heels, going back into the forest. “Jeongin’s at home. Follow me.”

Jisung was the first one to follow, ignoring Chan’s hissed “He could lead us into a _trap_ ,” and Changbin’s confused “What was his name again?” He still couldn’t feel his legs but that fact didn’t stop him. He felt like they were finally getting somewhere.

The ocean was still there when he blinked, but he chose to ignore it until things were settled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title's taken from: bastille — the waves


	5. the consequence of living in between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not posting for a long time! and for leaving things not completely uncovered~

Jisung uncertainly trailed behind the stranger, his usual façade of self-confidence disappearing with every step he took. The boy—the man?—was keen on doing his best to ignore Jisung, which was... understandable, and it's not like Jisung was ever bothered by people not paying attention to him, perfectly content on running his mouth at every given (and not given) opportunity.

This was different, somehow.

Usually Jisung was really good at introductions. The best. He knew how to make friends whose faces and names you forgot the next day, and he knew how to make friends who stayed. However, he wasn't sure what to say to a stranger who, supposedly, already knew about him everything. All his funny conversation openers were of no use anymore because, well, the witch probably was familiar with all of them already. Shit. Was he even supposed to start a conversation? He could be dangerous. Witches, judging by Jisung's experience, weren't usually as evil as media sometimes portrayed them to be (he was a witch as well, he would know), but to be fair, what Jisung knew? Comparing soft, Starbucks-and-bought-flower-crowns city witches to the forest ones? Has he ever even met any witches from the rural areas? He didn't think so. How did the boy even learn magic? There probably weren't any magic schools in the area—they tended to be located in the cities. So, either the boy learned mind magic from his parents, or he was self-taught. Just like Changbin! Except that he, apparently, could do real magic. Not just potions. Magic in blood, passed by generations. Fairy's son? Kitsune's grandson? Mermaid's grand-grandson? Gumiho's grand-grand-grand—

"Hey."

Jisung almost tripped.

"Er." The stranger avoided looking Jisung in the eyes, choosing to stare at his right ear instead. "Sorry for interrupting your thought process, but, um. You should drink some water. Preferably soon." He progressively looked more and more uncomfortable. It would be kinda fascinating if Jisung wasn't the same amount uncomfortable himself. "None of my business, I know, but your mind was on the verge of collapsing. I mean. Felt like you're about to pass out. Sorry."

Jisung opened his mouth to answer with something witty, inhaled and promptly choked on saliva.

Great.

Gasping for air, he turned around and almost fell on Chan, who had just enough practice and experience to catch him with ease. The older sympathetically patted his back and offered a half-empty water bottle, glancing at the stranger with suspicion.

Jisung drank it all and silently passed it back to Chan. Turning around, he had just enough time to catch the stranger's fading smirk. Jisung almost tripped again.

"Um," said he very intelligently. "So."  
  
The other boy patiently waited.

Jisung's mind, usually fuller and louder than the market just outside his mother's home on a Sunday morning, was completely empty. What was the etiquette regarding the situation like this? Were there any set phrases he could use? "Great weather we're having here, much better than that storm in your mind" was definitely a miss, but "You know, I'm kind of a witch myself, which you obviously already know" could just work. Probably.

The stranger was still staring at him, waiting.

"Yeah, um, right. What's your name?" Jisung gave himself a mental high-five for not stuttering.

"Lee Minho," said Lee Minho.

"So, Minho," continued Jisung with more confidence, "what the fuck is going on?"

Somewhere from behind Changbin tried to stifle his laughter.

Minho's mouth twitched.

"Well," said he, "I was under an impression that you came here to help Jeongin with his friend's death investigation. Great professionalism here, by the way, asking about the deaths the locals directly. It's not like one of them could be a murderer or something."

Jisung didn't turn around to see Changbin's scowl and Chan's vaguely amused expression. He could perfectly picture them anyway.

"And of course," continued Minho, still leading them deeper and deeper into the forest, "that was so clever of you to go here without any kind of preparation or knowing who exactly you are helping. I suppose professionals like you can handle anything. Impressive, really. I wish I had that amount of self-confidence."

"Okay," said Chan. "Your point?"

Minho was silent for a second.

"I'm glad you came," said he. "I have no idea what's going on, either. And Jeongin has been getting restless."

 

* * *

 

He was alone.

The things were like that: he was existing. He had a body. He didn't have much of a mind anymore, but he still had an echo of it.

And he was alone.

He didn't like to be alone. He could still remember feelings. They were chemicals, mostly. He didn't have them anymore. He still could grasp the ideas of them, though.

He was alone, and he didn't like it.

 

* * *

 

"So you're saying," said Chan carefully as they approached the house hidden in the woods, "that you think Shiwoo didn't drown. He was drowned."

Minho absent-mindedly nodded, looking through his pockets for a key. "Not only him." His expression darkened. "Cats, too."

"Cats," repeated Changbin, his expression unreadable.

"Wouldn't want to look into it if it wasn't for the cats," said Minho sadly, unlocking the door.

"I see," said Chan, clearly not seeing anything.

Jisung stepped inside, looking around. The first thing he heard was a quiet buzz of an air conditioner, which got him idly wondering how Minho got it to work without any electricity. A short hallway led to a small kitchen, brightly illuminated by the sunlight. The kitchen table was occupied by a young boy still in his teens, who was muttering quietly under his nose to himself while writing something in a notebook.

"I'm back," said Minho, tossing his keys on the table.

"Welcome home," said the boy, not looking up.

"I brought the intruders. Weren't what we thought, apparently," said Minho, sitting down on the nearest chair.

The boy finally looked up. He had big eyes, the kind of eyes that made you do stupid things. If Jisung was the type of person who had crushes easily, he would have fallen in love. He wasn't, so he just waved a little, smiling his best 'don't know who you are but have to leave the best impression' smile.

"Oh?" said the boy, squinting.

"Jisung, Jeongin. Jeongin, Jisung," said Minho, pointing at them repeatedly. Then he furrowed his brows and continued, less certain, "Chang...min? Bin. Changbin." He looked proud of himself. "And Chan."

"Thank you for introducing us," said Changbin drily. "Funny how we didn't tell you our names but you still managed to do that."

Minho pretended that he suddenly became deaf.

Jisung frowned, thinking. “'Weren't what we thought'? What do you mean?”

"Oh! Right," said Minho, already chewing something. Jisung heard his stomach growl. "Well, yeah, we were sitting here doing nothing—don't interrupt me—and then—okay, I was doing nothing and you were brooding, happy now?—and then, well, I felt you three. The wall is tied to me, so. Or whatever you call it." Minho looked at Jisung and said as if remembering something, "The barrier. That's it."

"Mhm," said Jisung encouragingly.

"I told Jeongin that and, well, he immediately started to panic—huh? What do you mean 'you did not'? You said they were after you!"

"I just said," said Jeongin patiently. Jisung had a feeling that to deal with Minho one had to have a lot of patience. "I just said that they could be the murderers. Everybody knows that I was asking about Shiwoo, and anybody could ask my grandma where I went. Even if nobody knows to whom."

"She told us you went to the forest witch," said Chan. "Apparently she advised against it."

"The hag is mad," said Minho conversationally.

"Don't say that!" snapped Jeongin. Minho raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Hey," said Changbin. He was standing next to the kitchen sink, his arms crossed. "Just so we're clear. You guys are friends?"

"Yes," said Jeongin while Minho shrugged. Jeongin rolled his eyes and repeated, "Yes, we're friends. Childhood, in fact."

"Okay then," said Changbin, his arms still crossed. "How do you know Hyunjin?"

Jeongin frowned. "He was at my school. Year older. Already graduated, but we're still pretty good friends." He stared at Changbin almost accusingly. "How do you know him?"

"He was the one who hired us," said Chan, leaning on the wall near the doorway. Jisung noticed that his left hand was in a pocket where he usually stored some of his amulets for quick escapes. Chan did not trust them.

Jeongin's eyes widened.

"He what?"

"He hired us," repeated Changbin, eyes dark. He did not like the situations where he wasn't in full control. This was one of those situations.

"But he doesn't know the magic!" exclaimed Jeongin.

"Do you?" asked Minho.

"He doesn't know _about_ the magic," corrected himself Jeongin. "I told him about this just because he is my best friend. No offense," added he quickly.

"None taken," said Minho. "I'll always place my cats before you, too."

Jisung got the feeling that neither of them really meant what they said.

"Maybe I did say more than I intended, but I was still," said Jeongin and quieted down. His bright expression that Jisung had already become to associate with the boy darkened. "I—I was still in shock. I had to talk to somebody. I was just ranting to my best friend." He suddenly looked very angry. "Should have known that the reason he didn't laugh at me for saying stuff about monsters and—and _stuff_ because he already knew about them. Didn't bother to tell me that he knew, though."

"He said that you weren't listening," said Changbin. He seemed unimpressed by the angry outburst, even if Minho still looked at Jeongin like he grew a second head.

"Well—yeah, because he started talking to me like I’m a child. I hate that." Jeongin looked up at them. "Just because someone's younger doesn't mean they should be treated like a toddler."

"Not true," said Changbin. "Jisung is the youngest and sometimes I just barely resist hiring a babysitter."

Jisung bristled and already opened his mouth to give Changbin a piece of his mind when he saw Minho smirking. "He can be quite dumb, yeah," said the other with mirth in his eyes.

The ensuing silence could be cut with a knife.

"Which brings us to the next question," said Chan for the first time in a few minutes. "What did you see in Jisung's mind?"

Jisung looked at Minho. Everybody looked at Minho, really, but it was only Jisung who was being looked at back. Minho's expression was similar to the one he was wearing in the forest when they first met. Shame, wariness, guilt. Fear.

"I didn't mean to." Minho's voice was small. "I am used to no resistance, so when I felt him shielding from me I felt—lost. And then I thought that he was probably mind magic witch as well, because if not, how did he fight against me? So I gave it everything I got. And only half-way through realized that there wasn't any resistance anymore. The attack that meant to break his defense broke—something else."

Chan's expression was horrified while Changbin, clearly not understanding, asked, "Something else?"

Minho avoided looking Jisung in the eyes, now. "Yes," said he, quietly. "I overestimated him and underestimated myself. So." He took a deep breath, as if before diving in the waters he wasn't sure he could return from. "I saw everything."

Everybody went quiet.

"From childbirth?" finally asked Changbin with curiosity.

"Not really. Well, yes, but," Minho struggled to explain. "His brain wasn't properly formed then, yet. Childbirth's pretty hazy, but—"

"This is a crime," said Chan quietly. Minho stopped muttering, his face pale. "A violation of human rights. If I filed a complaint to the Council, you would—"

"Let's not rush into things," said Jisung quickly. Nothing said was a revelation to him. He felt something break during the attack and he saw his memories flow. For some reason, he wasn't angry or seeking revenge. Just—thoughtful. "I thought you hated the Council."

"I do, sometimes. The taxes are too high, for starters," said Chan with a passion. "And _the paperwork_. Hate that. But this is," he gestured at Minho, "right up their category. Do you have a license?" Minho pretended he didn't exist. "Of course you don't. Unlicensed witch, can't control his powers, probably self-taught, and he just looked at the insides of your brain without your consent."

"I was self-taught," said Changbin, his eyes on Chan. "Didn't seem like a problem when you hired me."

"Because it's potions," said Chan desperately. "And it wasn't the problem because we got you a license, remember? You had to take all their tests and everything. Nobody would have bought anything from you otherwise. Nobody not shady, of course," added he. "But you know what I think about the Pleaders."

"So the problem is," said Jeongin, uncertain, "that he isn’t registered anywhere? It's like—it's like he hit a person while driving and he didn't even have a driver's license?"

"Exactly," said Chan with approval.

"He wasn't hurt, though!" said Minho, clearly nervous. He turned to Jisung. "You weren't, right?"

"Not physically," said Jisung. "But you weren't hitting me with a car, either. Pain is harder to ignore when it comes not to your brain but _from_ your brain." He saw Chan opening his mouth, his hand in the _other_ pocket now, which was never a good sign, and quickly continued, "It's okay, though. You didn't mean to."

"Jisung, you can't just—" started Chan.

"I think it's my decision to make," said Jisung, simply. "My mom is a witch, Chan. She taught me the Council’s laws. But she also taught me to listen only to my heart when magic is concerned. Drop this."

Chan was staring at him, his expression unreadable. Changbin was looking at him as well, but Jisung noticed with surprise that the boy looked almost proud.

Chan shifted, breaking the tension. "Yeah, okay," said he easily. Jisung felt himself relax. "Let's get to the topic at hand, then."

"Which is?" asked Jeongin.

Changbin smiled. "The murders."

 

* * *

 

He felt them. Minds like fireflies in the dark, hearts beating, blood flowing, mouths moving. It made him feel even colder. It made him feel even more lonely.

Something was whispering to him. _Make them yours. Bring them here._

_Make them yours. Bring them here._

 

* * *

 

"Okay, so. What do we have?" asked Chan, his notebook open on the kitchen table.

Everybody looked at Jeongin.

"Em," said he, looking uncomfortable with all the attention. "I already told Minho everything…"

"Maybe you forgot something the first time?" said Chan smoothly. "Won't hurt anybody if you repeat what you said."

Jeongin looked lost. "I don't even know you. You could be lying about—about the agency, and…"

"They aren't lying," reassured him Minho, placing his hand on the other boy's arm. "I saw it all, remember? They are really who they say you are." He paused and turned his head to look at Jisung, saying, mockingly, " _Let's name it 3RACHA because we're also hot._ "

Jisung blushed. "Shut up."

"Why are you helping us, though?" asked Jeongin, his forehead furrowing.

Changbin looked at him, patronizing. "Money," said he, simply.

"I don't have—" started Jeongin when Jisung interrupted him, saying, "Hyunjin hired us, Hyunjin will pay."

Jeongin started to say something again when Minho interrupted him as well, saying, "Just tell the story. Ask later."

Jeongin closed and opened his mouth a few times. Took a deep breath.

"Okay. Well."

 

* * *

 

Something was approaching him. Quiet heartbeat, almost non-existing mind.

The thing squeaked when his fingers wrapped around it.

 

* * *

 

Jeongin was born in the village, his father long gone (he didn't quite mean to have a child and felt it was easier to leave the village before his fathership was even announced), his mother and grandmother becoming the only family he had. His mom tried her best to give him the life she never had—she worked odd jobs in the town day and night, saving up money, and when Jeongin turned six she took him and left the village forever, moving to Busan. Grandmother was left behind, too old and stubborn to move from the house she was born in and where she lived her whole life.

Jeongin's mom never talked to her mother again. However, she allowed Jeongin to visit the village every summer, sending him all the way to Jeju island with a friend of hers who also had relatives there.

Jeongin was a lovely child. He loved his mom, and he loved his grandma, and he loved his friends who always waited for him in Jeju: a small boy named Shiwoo, who was the only son of a young couple living near the shore, and a slightly older boy named Minho, who refused to say where he lived, but came every day to Jeongin's house to play nevertheless. Jeongin's grandma was indulgent to Shiwoo and openly rude to Minho. She never explained why she never allowed Minho to even cross the house’s threshold. Minho advised Jeongin not to ask about it.

Jeongin was slowly growing up. All three of them were growing up. At thirteen Shiwoo suddenly got taller than Jeongin, then quickly overgrew Minho. Jeongin felt good when later that year he became the same height as Minho, even if the other was pissed about it for a long time.

After turning fourteen Minho grew distant. He didn't come to play anymore. Jeongin had to call for him at the forest's border now, where he knew Minho lived. He caught him once, when the other boy went home, and even tried to follow him, his curiosity picked, but he soon lost the sight of Minho and then got lost himself.

The next morning Minho came to his house just to say, coldly, "Don't follow me anymore."

Jeongin, shocked, managed to ask if they weren't friends anymore. Minho's expression softened. Of course we are, said he. I still have our friendship bracelet, don't I?

Me too, said Jeongin.

The topic was closed.

It was reopened when he was picking the forest berries and saw Minho levitating the fallen leaves, though.

Jeongin was trying to be as quiet as possible. There was Minho—his mean, moody, quick-witted, hard-working maybe-best friend—who was staring intensely at the leaves dancing in the air, whispering something under his nose. The leaves were forming strange shapes that left Jeongin feeling dizzy. He was almost shaking.

"What do you think you're doing?" said a tired female voice.

The leaves fell to the ground.

"I was just practicing, Ma," said Minho.

Somebody sighed. Jeongin couldn’t see well from his hiding spot, but whoever was that woman, he didn’t know her voice.

"You know better than practice outside. Come," said the same voice.

Minho nodded, not saying anything. It was unusual to see him so silent. He started to walk towards the shadows, towards the voice.

Not before glancing at crouching Jeongin, though.

He was seen.

Minho didn't say anything, disappearing into the shadows.

Only when Jeongin arrived at home, panting, he realized that was because everything went as Minho wanted.

He wanted to be seen in return.

 

* * *

 

The thing's mind was no longer existing.

 _Why?_ wondered he.

Why?

He was alone again.

 

* * *

 

The next time they met nobody said anything for a long time. Jeongin was the first one to break the silence, saying: "So… What was that all about?"

Minho sighed. "Don't tell my mom you saw me," said he quietly.

"I'd have to know who she is to do that," pointed Jeongin.

"Fair."

The boys sat in silence.

"So… you are a wizard, then?" asked Jeongin, conversationally. He had a long time to think everything through and decide that he didn't care. The world with magic was a much more interesting place than the one without it, anyway.

Minho wrinkled his nose. "A witch, mind you."

"What's the difference?" asked Jeongin, stretching his legs. They were sitting on a sandy shore, their legs bare, the ocean licking their toes.

"A wizard is somebody whose magic doesn't come naturally," explained Minho. "They are usually old ignorant men who think they researched magic artifacts and powerlines and what-not enough to use them." He paused. "And women, of course. And neither."

"And witches?"

"We don't have to chase the magic, it is willingly with us. And we can't lose it, either. We can just choose not to use it."

"Wow."

They were silent again.

"Don't tell anyone, okay? Even Shiwoo. Ma will kill me," said Minho. His voice was soft.

"Okay," said Jeongin. "Okay."

 

* * *

 

Tiny minds.

Tiny deaths.

He longed.

 

* * *

 

"Hm," said Changbin. "So your history really goes back, huh."

"What happened later?" asked Jisung.

Minho and Jeongin shared a look.

"Nothing really changed. I kept coming during the summer holidays. Well—" started to say Jeongin and then cut himself, "no, that's unimportant. What's important is: Shiwoo kept living in the village. His parents had—have a car and a job in the town so they gave him a ride to his school every day. I don't think he ever left this part of Jeju island, even."

"You three stayed friends?" asked Jisung. He didn't know why, but he felt jealous. He lost touch with his childhood and school friends a long time ago. Nobody cared enough to even just message him after he graduated.

To his surprise, Minho shook his head. "Not really. I never hung out with Shiwoo when Jeongin wasn't here."

Jeongin sighed. “Well, I kept in touch with Minho and Shiwoo. So I felt...uneasy when he stopped answering to my messages.” He fell silent and then murmured, “And then his parents called me.”

Jisung looked at the boy with pity. It must have been hurtful, losing people at such a young age, when everything seems possible. Makes you think what else you can lose as easily.

The sun was shining through the curtains, but Jisung could feel that dusk was on its way.

He also could feel something else, but for the life of him could not pinpoint what it was, even if it left him shivering in the warm kitchen, surrounded by his friends and people who he would love to get to know closer.

The sun was coming down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title's taken from: sleeping at last — heirloom
> 
> upd: oh yes, btw, if you want to follow me on any social media, these are the sites that i use! feel free to follow/message me :)  
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